Turkish Delight
by dmnq8
Summary: He was used to experiencing anger and resentment around the Turk, not this endless feast of delights.- Kiriban prize for ANIMEFREAK801. Greece/Turkey/Greece. Human names. Two-shot. Disclaimer in my pofile.


A/N: Two-shot kiriban prize for **ANIMEFREAK801**. She was the other one who caught my 22,222 kiriban over on DeviantArt.

Well, now. I watched the requisite episodes of Hetalia for this fic, mined several sites for data, and what have you, but as usual I'm entering this fic more or less blind. I seem to end up doing that with Hetalia fics. As a result, I resorted to my own interpretations. Might be some OOC-ness here. Forgive me. And, **ANIMEFREAK801** only specified a happy ending. Well... It's happy to my way of thinking, so I hope this pleases her. ^^;

**Warning: **Gaphic man-loving' going on.

* * *

**Turkish Delight**

Chapter 1

There were few things he enjoyed better than solitude. Not that he didn't enjoy discussions with Kiku and a few other friends, but solitude allowed him uninterrupted hours in which to ponder philosophical issues that bored everyone else. He could nap, when left alone, or indulge in lengthy petting sessions with his cats.

Or he could take his daily walk into the tiny village of Kalliani, as he was doing now.

Contrary to popular belief, he did not sleep in unstable ruins…he had a small stone cottage that housed his few comforts. That this humble dwelling sat within sight of ancient Roman quarries and aqueducts, as well as a few relics of Greek architecture, was beside the point.

There were countless stone paths such as the one he walked, that connected the many little villages on the island of Evia. He preferred these lonely pockets to the hustle and bustle of larger cities. Karystos was the closest large town to where he was, and he generally visited there only rarely. Kalliani, though, was only an hour's walk away from his front door. The path leading down from the mountain ran unimpeded for a couple of miles, before small shops began dotting it here and there. The first –or the last, if you were heading away from town- was a rustic coffee shop run by an elderly man Heracles had known all his life. He'd be coming up on it shortly.

In the mean time, he enjoyed the stirring sight of Mt. Ochi to his left and the breathtaking view of the Aegean before him. A stiff, cool breeze blew his hair about and he breathed deeply of it.

* * *

There was never anyone in Thanos's tiny coffee shop. He was the sole patron; sometimes weeks or months would pass without a customer beside himself visiting. If someone else went to the shop, it was usually some old acquaintance of Thanos, some equally ancient fellow who came to reminiscence with him. To see some tall, youngish man perched on one of the old wooden stools at the bar now pulled Heracles up short. He actually stopped outside the open-faced shop and stared.

He'd know that green coat anywhere. It was currently hanging over the seat of the stool, presumably to allow the owner's feet, encased in their ever-present boots, to rest on the base of the stool. The stool beside the coat's owner was occupied by a similarly recognizable scarf and fez. The head was bare. Dark brown hair glinted with bronze highlights in the rays of the setting sun.

Of all the places on earth, Heracles thought, the man had to park his carcass _here_. An insignificant shop no one knew about, on a path that had no name, outside a village that had a few hundred souls at best. The sheer oppression of what could only be seen as base harassment pricked Heracles, as he was sure it was meant to. Sadiq's presence was a deliberate barb to him and he was helpless not to respond.

-oOo-

Thanos spotted him and lifted a hand in greeting. "_E!_"

Ducking beneath the wooden overhang, Heracles ignored him in order to lean an elbow on the bar, directly to Sadiq's left. There was no mask, he saw. Just the handsome, excessively masculine features bare for all to see. He pushed past his moment of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I have to hand it to you, this country has almost perfected the delicacy of Turkish coffee." Sadiq sipped from his small ceramic cup, closing his eyes. "One of the few things there is to actually like here. Of course, no one makes Turkish coffee quite like Turkish people. Alas…" His light brown eyes opened and slanted sideways, taking in a pair of narrowed green ones trained on his face. "Perhaps I should stick around. Teach these _köylü_ how it's really done."

There was a smirk that accompanied Sadiq's smug gaze. Seeing it, Heracles felt the violence and rage that somehow only surfaced around this particular individual. It bubbled up to a restless simmer. Something just short of boiling. The face alone called up all manner of resentment. Memories of control. Domination. His own forced subjugation. And yet, there were a few good memories thrown in the mix too. Not enough to override the bad ones, but enough so that he frowned now in an effort to maintain his usual calm. "I said what do you want."

Perfectly aware of the antagonism between them, Sadiq made a show of setting his cup down in its matching saucer. What did he want? Good question. He had no good or explainable reason for being where he was, other than that he knew he'd see one tall, muscular Greek. Their clashes were certainly stimulating. Pushing his cup and saucer aside with the flat of his hand, he turned on his stool so that he was leaning on an elbow too, facing Heracles much as the other man was facing him. He smiled. "I actually came to discuss something important," he said off the top of his head. "I think we should join once more. It was a mistake for you to leave me."

"Join-!" And just like that, his rage boiled over into a potent, silent fury.

Ah, he did _so_ enjoy seeing those green eyes darken in wrath. Sadiq couldn't keep his smile from widening in proportion to the white tension around Heracles's mouth, or the flare of his nostrils. "Yes. Join."

Thanos cautiously took the used cup and saucer. He pretended to wipe the bar with a rag, while silently watching each young man's wordless stare at the other. A battle of wills was being waged right there at the bar. The air was thick with the animosity each gave off.

"Very well," Heracles murmured after some moments. "Actually, I think a discussion _is_ in order. We can go back to my place, if you wish…"

The words were civil enough, but the eyes said something else. Sadiq searched them at length, trying to find some common ground between the verbal concession and the violence he sensed emanating from Heracles. That long body was clenched in stillness, ready to attack, and the eyes smoldered with something deeper than anger…but he'd expressed a desire to talk. _While every other part of him is itching to kill me. _The contrast tightened his skin deliciously.

The seconds stretched to a minute. Then two. "All right," Sadiq said slowly. He tipped his head toward the doorway, his tone one of veiled anticipation. "Lead the way."

* * *

The sun was setting as Sadiq followed Heracles up a winding stone path. The path itself was ancient, leading up hills and around rocky outcroppings, broken by stretches of grass in several places. Sounds of the sea washing against rocks were only broken by the fresh breeze and the sound of their footsteps. Though steep in some areas, the climb was nothing to a man of his conditioning, and he noticed that Heracles likewise did not break out a sweat.

That he had nothing to actually discuss, had in fact pulled his reason for being in that shop right out of his ass, was cause for some private amusement. Heracles would probably have a great deal to say on the subject of joining. He intended to let the man rant, throw in a few incendiary comments to keep the argument going, and let things escalate from there. He didn't know why, but something about the unflappable Greek pulled him time and again, urged him to try and get beneath his skin. He wanted the kind of rage most calm individuals were capable of. He wanted screams and shouts, and punches from those thick hands.

He'd felt the precise moment those green eyes had landed on his back, just as he was taking his first sip of coffee. His entire body flashed up in a heat wave, the reaction he always had around him. Usually this was accompanied by anger, his familiar need to bring the man back under his thumb. Sometimes he was visited by an urge to lay hands on Heracles as well, an urge that was so strong, so all-consuming, that it was all he could do to keep their infrequent interactions to mere arguments. It was completely irrational, of course. Some form of insanity that gripped him whenever he so much as heard the man's name, but he couldn't deny that hearing that same name sent goosebumps all over his body, or that it quickened his blood.

Heracles excited him.

And watching the way muscles flexed and bunched in his ass as they took a steeper slope, and the way the final rays of the sun brought out depths to his shaggy hair, Sadiq wondered if maybe he didn't have a reason for showing up in that shop after all.

-oOo-

The cottage was tucked between the shallow valley of several large hills. Small. Stone. Two storeys, with cross gabled roofing and a modest stream running beside it. A veritable swarm of cats either sensed or heard their arrival and poured out of the house from the open windows on the ground floor. Looking around, Sadiq could see dozens of other cats in the surrounding area making their way toward them. They were suddenly inundated with mewling, meowing creatures, every breed of cat known to man. Most of them converged on Heracles, but quite a few arched and rubbed against his boots in supplication for petting.

"_Bok, _how do you live with all these beasts?" There was no answer. He looked up to find Heracles entering the cottage. Stepping carefully so as to avoid treading on any tails, he moved to follow.

The interior was charming, with the ground floor taken up almost entirely by one large room. Exposed beams in the ceiling, stone walls, and a stone fireplace that probably didn't see much use, given Greece's climate. He noticed a short hall that seemed to lead to a kitchen. Granite countertops were just visible from where he was standing. A wide leather couch draped with a dark plaid lap blanket, several full bookcases, and a spiral staircase in the corner completed the furnishings.

Done with his inspection, he turned to find his host lighting the last of many artfully displayed wall candles. _This should be interesting, _he thought as he folded his arms. _All alone with a man who looks like he wants to go for my throat. Life is good!_

* * *

Heracles thought, but couldn't recall a time when Sadiq had gone so long without speaking. He'd expected some kind of challenging comment all the way up from the coffee shop. Now that he'd let the man into his home, he thought for sure there'd be a snide remark about the superiority of Turkish architecture, or how sparse his furnishings were. At the very least mention made of his lack of electricity. Nothing. Sadiq merely crossed his arms, after looking around, and proceeded to stare at him expectantly.

In the shop, Sadiq had looked at him in much the same way, while he…well, he'd been hit with several realizations at once.

That initial spike of killing rage at the suggestion of another union had pulsed in his head for several heartbeats before it had given way to a wealth of other thoughts. His first had been why on earth he continued to put up with the man, why he continued to suffer his insults. His second thought had been surprised out of the depths of his subconscious; he'd caught himself dwelling on those tannish eyes in speculation of the first thought only to realize that some sick part of him liked it. That was why he put up with him. He liked the hostility they seemed to create whenever they met. The way it was the only divergence from his otherwise placid existence. And all _this_, the realization that he liked their fights, was wrapped up in the sudden understanding that he found those tannish eyes to be gorgeous. That Sadiq, as a whole, was like…his mind had cast about then for some suitable analogy. Something that encompassed the way his body, his mind, his _self_ seemed to spark to life whenever Sadiq was near him. He had no word, but it was as if at all other times of his life he was on hold. In some kind of stasis. But when Sadiq was in the picture, then everything in him roiled and seethed with emotional chaos.

The Turkish fuck wanted them to join. To rule him once more, no doubt. The emotion he'd felt most keenly when inviting him to his place had been fury so deep he'd been incapable of expressing it. Something in him had risen in rebellion, much as it had when he'd finally won freedom from this same bastard so long ago.

And now here Sadiq stood, at his mercy. Subject to _his_ desires. His feelings of outrage, rebellion, and fury continued to stew in him, as he walked until his own crossed arms were nearly touching Sadiq's. "Do you really think I'd come back to you?"

Sadiq's brows rose. "What, no preliminaries? Do I think you'd come back…hm. Honestly? Never."

"Then why suggest it?"

A careless shrug. "I like pissing you off."

Heracles made his voice flat. "Do you."

"Few things give me more pleasure." A wide, toothy grin. Eyes crinkled in amusement.

If Heracles weren't feeling the exact same thing, he'd have risen to the bait of that statement. Instead, he leaned forward so they were nearly nose to nose. "I'm not so weak as to be controlled by you anymore."

"Oh, I don't know…" The grin lost some of its nonchalance; the proximity of those green eyes made it hard to breathe. "I think if I set my mind to it-"

"What? That you'd overpower me?"

"Something like that. Tell me, why'd you bring me here? If you're going to take a swing at me, go ahead. We can settle this thing between us once and for all."

"You'd like that."

"I would…if you're man enough."

They'd dropped their crossed arms some time ago. Now they _were_ nose to nose. It had become obvious to both of them by now that more was happening here besides an argument. Their eyes searched each other's avidly, even as their skin heated and they began breathing heavier in acknowledgement.

For the sake of his pride, Heracles did throw a punch, one that landed with a meaty crack on Sadiq's jaw. The latter went staggering backward, hand to the injured area, only to catch his balance and come swinging back.

* * *

The eagerness with which they each went at each other was obscene. There was a blood thirst to their blows that seemed unquenchable. The couch was knocked over as Sadiq flew into it. A bookcase toppled, the books inside tumbling everywhere, when Heracles was thrown toward the wall. The cats that had followed them inside yowled in outrage as they left by the same windows they'd entered from. There were words. Angry grunts in native tongues that they each heard and understood, but which only sharpened their thirst for more. Heracles's fists rained like sledgehammers on Sadiq's back while the Turk was briefly down on hands and knees, only for Sadiq to then drive a shoulder up into the other man's gut with all the force of an enraged bull.

It wasn't enough, Heracles decided. No matter the strength he put into his blows, or the fleeting satisfaction of each injury he dealt, the thirst clawed at him. Drove him. It demanded to be satisfied until he hooked a hand into Sadiq's belt, yanked him forward, and drank from him directly, seeking to quench the thirst that way. Their chests collided and rebounded, but he kept him in place by tightening his fist.

The hands threading through his sweaty hair hurt, but the way Sadiq's mouth answered his with the same bruising urgency killed; the pleasure of finding the correct cure for what burned between them was so earth-shattering as to temporarily wipe out all thought.

They were still. Standing amongst the wreckage, chests heaving in exertion. Nothing moved but their mouths, and even that very little. They were fused, letting the kiss happen with the least amount of motion possible. Letting the knowledge that this was what all their antagonism had been circling settle into their minds and bones. Even so, the kiss was too hot to be sustained for long. Scorched, they broke apart on a shared gasp, quivered where they stood, eyes closed, then pressed back in for more. Again and again, until they could withstand the expression of this truth without turning to ash.

For a long time, they were lost in the exquisiteness of it. In the fact that these feelings existed with such strength in them and were mirrored in each other. They were cautious, trying to sample the discovery without getting too badly singed. Pecking and darting and trembling until Heracles felt the heat invade him completely. It ran through his veins in a molten flood, filled him with a need that dwarfed all fear. He crushed Sadiq to him in an embrace the other man vaguely protested, already lifting him enough to walk toward the overturned couch. He brought the heel of his foot down hard on the edge, righting it in one powerful move, and dropped them both onto it.

-oOo-

The green coat had been lost in the fight. Sadiq's shirt was torn, but Heracles removed what was left of it now, before curling his fingers into the knotted laces of each high boot and yanking sharply. The muscles in his forearms bunched and the laces snapped. The boots were slid off, followed by Sadiq's pants. For all of this, Sadiq lay silent, one arm flung casually behind his head. His eyes were languid and hooded with desire.

Heracles took his time looking.

He'd known many men and women. If he had a religion, then sex and all things carnal was its doctrine. There wasn't a thing he didn't know and appreciate about the human body, but this…this was perfection walking. No man alive could equal Sadiq's beauty, the leashed and powerful magnificence of his physique. The thick pelt of brown on Sadiq's head was mimicked at his groin, where the staff of his arousal stood thick and proud. Even as Heracles watched, a bead of clear precum rose from the wet slit, swelled until it could no longer maintain its perch, and slowly rolled over the side of the glistening fat glans. It left a shiny trail of moisture behind.

Heracles swallowed the sudden pooling of saliva in his mouth. It was an audible sound in the hushed stillness. But then he was tearing off his own clothes in his haste to be naked and lay his skin against that brown expanse of musculature. When he had, they each groaned and shifted, fitting the hills and valleys of their bodies together for maximum effect. He had to forcibly keep from fastening his mouth to Sadiq's arched throat in order to pull back and meet his gaze. "I'm going to fuck you," he said thickly.

"I would hope so."

"Hard." When the tan eyes seemed to glow in response, he added, "And I don't know if I'll be able to stop once I start."

Sadiq pursed his lips thoughtfully. He felt as if his entire body was engorged with desire, not just the part of him pressed to Heracles's own cock. His limbs, his chest…everything felt full, weighed down by the need to be branded in the precise way Heracles was warning him would happen. Taken. Claimed. Marked. By this man, no other. "Don't hold back."

At seeing the look of matching hunger in Sadiq's eyes, Heracles breathed a sigh of relief. He could be himself, give full rein to who he was and what he felt.

* * *

He tasted so good. Ornery cuss of a Turk he might be when upright, but naked and panting like this, his bronzed skin was pure ambrosia. Heracles ate of it greedily, running the flat of his tongue up one side of his neck, surrounding an earlobe with his mouth. Grazing his teeth along a flexed jaw, opening his mouth over Sadiq's own. Plunging his tongue into the soft, heated depths that even now hinted at coffee. He had to steady that mobile head with a hand at Sadiq's crown, the better to suck that taste into himself, to mate their tongues in sensuous, sinuous detail, to let that inquisitive tongue invade him in turn. Back and forth, they traded their tastes, their breaths, while Sadiq's body writhed and pitched beneath him on the wide couch.

He leaned up enough to run the fingertips of one hand down Sadiq's face, brushing his eyes and nose. He ended by pressing against his mouth until it opened and drew his fingers inside. The silken heat, and the way Sadiq sucked on his fingers, wrenched a shudder and groan from him; his cock seemed to double in size, so swollen was it. Without a word, he pulled his hand free, added his own saliva to it, and pushed it between their bodies.

Sadiq's eyes darkened dangerously at feeling three calloused fingers sharply thrust into his ass. Heracles bent close to his face, watching his pupils dilate as he pressed them deeper, as deep as they would go. Keeping the length of his thumb pressed just beneath the Turk's sac, he clench that hand into a fist, simultaneously attacking the sensitive bundle of nerves in Sadiq and applying pressure to his gootch. He squeezed that fist, heedless of the pain he caused, and sure, by the way Sadiq's lips skinned back from his teeth, that the pain was welcomed.

It was only a moment that he held that fist. The second he saw those darkened eyes glaze over, he loosened his hand and twisted it. He kept his face close to Sadiq's, gauging his pleasure, his pain, his need, and adjusting his touch accordingly. The muscular walls of his cavern squeezed his digits hard in protest, but he reached for another inch inside. His fingers squelched with sweat and spit as he slowly withdrew them, and he relished the feel of the fleshy ridges on his hand. The way his knuckles caught on that quivering ring of flesh, and the way it made Sadiq bite down on his lip. He pushed them in again with the addition of a fourth finger, cupping upward to hit his prostrate strongly, and was rewarded with a deep gasp from the man beneath him. Another gasp, and a ragged moan for more.

He kept that up, pumping his hand in measured strokes as he bent and sucked a tiny nipple into his mouth. A muscular arm clamped around his head, holding him in place, but he shook free and moved to the other nipple. Side to side, his head moved, to the music of Sadiq's heavy breathing and bitten off grunts whenever the hand inside him twisted too sharply or pressed to deeply. He made his way down the slick, brown torso, laving the flesh and nibbling. Sometimes biting. Sometimes sinking his teeth in until hands threaded in his hair and pulled him away, only to draw him back down for another taste.

His hand went still. Sadiq's cock was distended to its widest possible girth, straining for release, all but ready to explode in his face at the slightest stimulation. Heracles reasoned that he'd be lucky to get one good suck in before it happened. Without waiting, he closed his mouth over the globular knob of that dark meat, swallowing half the considerable length in one go. Sadiq sucked in a deep breath, arching into the heat, into the suction Heracles applied without letting go. He held that shivering length in his mouth, sucking…sucking without pause, one long, drawn-out suction that matched the hand he'd clenched into a fist again. He held prostate and perineum in that fist, slowly rolling and undulating his palm, even as he inexorably tightened the suction on the weeping cock in his mouth. He could feel Sadiq's escalating excitement as his own. They panted in unison, Sadiq swiftly losing his control, and him the one wrenching it from him. Sucking and squeezing until the Turk let go in a geyser of release.

_Now_, Heracles freed the suction to catch it all, slurping and swallowing in a fast-paced rhythm that matched the warm, salty spurts coating the back of his throat. He clamped his hand tight at the moment of Sadiq's release, ripping a sound from the man's throat that was almost a scream, and still he didn't stop. He didn't stop swallowing until he was violently pushed away, where he let himself sprawl in a reclining position on the floor, out of breath.

He waited only a minute.

Sadiq had a trembling hand over his eyes, the other cradling his abused cock gingerly. Heracles stood up, bent to sling him over one shoulder, and made his way to the spiral staircase in the corner.


End file.
